Little Black Boxes
by EmilyJade4499
Summary: It's JJ's birthday, and Miss Penelope Garcia has a surprise in store for her: Emily Prentiss' return to The States. But when someone's grudge against Emily results in her abduction, will she make it out alive? What ghastly torture will she endure? **SEXUAL CONTENT**TRIGGER WARNING: RAPE**
1. Chapter 1

**_A/N: Hey, guys! So I have put Early Morning Runs on the shelf for a while. I need a break. BUT, I will eventually come back to it. This is a new little fun - well, for me - bit. It's 100% M rated. I got a DM over this and my friend convinced me to write it. This is out of my comfort zone so it may be a while between updates. Anyways, Enjoy? _**

_"My flight just landed._

**_Yay! Do you want me to come get you?_**

_No. I can catch a cab._

**_Awesome. Do you need to get ready at my place?_**

_Again, no. I'm staying at my mom's old place. What time do you want me there?_

**_You're staying with your mom?! I'm thinking I want her to be here first. Like, I can surprise her with everything then you could ring the doorbell. Yea?_**

_You're funny. Can you really picture me staying with my mom? House's been vacant for a while. Is she answering the door?_

**_Ooooh! Yes! That's a great idea!_**

_Ha. Alright. Time?_

**_Hm… 8?_**

_Mk. See you then, Pen."_

Tucking her phone inside her purse, Emily Prentiss stands and waits patiently for the people filing past her. She slings her knapsack over her shoulder as she steps into the aisle to be swept off the plane. The flight attendants smile at the agent, noticing her discomfort. Making a beeline for the luggage claim, Emily hurries past other passengers - wanting so desperately to be out of the airport. Chalk it up to her profession, but Emily could never be comfortable in an airport… not when she used to label people as psychotic. As she mumbles an address to her cab driver, her mind begins to wander to the new BAU agent, SSA Alex Blake. She's vaguely aware of buildings growing farther apart and the narrowing road, though her conscious mind focuses on the matter at hand. Spencer had sent her multiple letters talking about her; he seemed to like her well enough.

"Ma'am? That'll be $35.42." The driver - a round bald man in his late fifties - looks at her expectantly.

"Right." Emily flashes that rare award-winning smile before handing him two $20 bills, "Keep the change." Without another word, Emily Prentiss steps from her cab into the icy rain, dampening her straightened hair into wet curls. She ducks her head and tightens the grip on the strap of her bag before jogging up the twisting drive. Enjoying the pain in her lungs, Emily pushes herself faster - bag bouncing against her back. Her feet pound, pound, pound the ground - sending puddles splashing left and right. Seeing the house come into view, Emily lets herself stop. The red shutters she remembered so vividly were long discolored, now a gloomy grey. Once fragrant flowers lay trampled and dead. Sighing quietly, she crosses the overgrown yard and ascends the creaky porch steps slowly.

"Great upkeep, Ambassador. Just great." Emily mutters to herself as she pulled the key from her now dripping bag. Slipping inside, she drops her bag on the floor as the door closes behind her. The familiar smell of her childhood home drifts back to her, along with it bringing memories of sunny days and books outside (memories of rainy days spent hiding comes as well, but are tucked neatly into their designated compartment). Hearing her bag vibrating against the creaky wood, Emily crouches and pulls out her phone:

**"Reminder: Get Ready."**

With a heavy sigh, she slings the bag over her shoulder and climbs the rickety steps to the the loft above. She unties the knot on her bag and begins laying her things out along the empty, unmade bed: toothbrush, toothpaste, hairbrush, curling iron, mascara, eyeliner, eye shadow, foundation, lipstick, simple white panties and bra, and finally, a red silk dress. It doesn't take long for her to retouch the curls in her hair, as she had already curled it before leaving London. Black eyeliner follows the outline of her eye, the line growing thicker around the outside of her eye. A dark eye shadow accentuates her liquid chocolate eyes. Her signature red lipstick adds a nice touch. With a heavy sigh, Emily Prentiss looks at herself in the dirty, full length mirror. If only she could say she likes what she sees. But no one can ever like the scarred mess that is Emily Prentiss.

"Focus, Emily. You're here for JJ. This isn't about you." She murmurs to herself, lifting the cool red fabric of the dress and holding it against her. Humming quietly, she slides the dress up her scarred body and zips it up the back. The strapless fabric hugs her bust, accentuating her muscular shoulders; the cinched waist shows off her hips. Coming only to her knees, not only her four-leaf clover is exposed, but also a long wicked scar running up her calf.

* * *

_**"Oooh! Are you here? Are you ready? I'm so excited!**_

_Yea, Pen. I'm down the street waiting._

**_Yay! Awesome! Okieeee, let's do this!_**

_Alright. On my way."_

Emily sighed quietly to herself before rising off her park bench, mentally preparing herself for coming face to face with her old team. With Spencer. With Aaron. Pulling her jacket around her, she clicks her heels along the concrete sidewalk. As she approaches the house, she can't quite smother the feeling of uneasiness rising in her chest. A shaky hand presses the doorbell.

Sensing something behind her, she turns ever so slowly - coming face to face with two broad chests. Hands abrasively seize her elbows, gripping them together behind her back despite the protests of her shoulder blades. Before screaming can cross her mind, one rough calloused hand clamps over her mouth.

"Think about screaming. Go ahead. See what happens." A disembodied voice hisses against her ear. Her feet leave the ground and the wet grass surrounds herface.

"H- uh.. they're coming..." another voice, much fainter pipes up from above her.

"Subdue her. I'll be back." The first voice mutters and she immediately feels weight over her.

"I'm sorry, Emily. Please don't make noise." The second voice whimpers in her ear. Where has she heard that voice? The hand leaves her mouth as cool rope replaces the hands on her wrists, tying them too tight. She can't make herself scream, recognizing the fear in the - what sounds like - boy's voice.

"Too tight..." She hisses, barely audible. The ropes immediately loosen on her wrists and she feels the same action being performed on her ankles.

"I'm sorry." the boy murmurs as he rolls her onto her back and helps her to sit up. She can see him now, though he wears a black mask over his face. He's tall and lanky, but appears muscled.

"Are you talking to her?!" the man hisses, coming across the yard.

"I-I... no!" the boy stammers. As the man approaches, she makes him out to be taller that the boy, but with much broader shoulders.

"Get her up." the boy hooks his hands under Prentiss' arms and lifts her to her feet. The man - as she notices - also wears a mask.

"Go get the car. I've got her." the man slides his left arm across her shoulder and his right knocks her knees out from under her. Struggling and kicking, Emily tries futilely to get away.

"Calm down!" he hisses in her ear, a hint of violence in his tone. A black Sedan pulls up and the boy quickly jumps out and opens the trunk.

The man loosens his arms and Emily tumbles into the trunk. A loud thud as the trunk closes and Emily Prentiss is surrounded by darkness.

_**A/N: See that little review button? I bet he'd really like it if you clicked on him.**_


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N: Look at how nice I am! Two chapters in 24 hours! Your review keep me going! Lemme know what you**_ think!

A buzzing sound rings through my ears, invading even the darkest corners of my mind. Distant voices above me jumble together, lost in the buzzing. The smell of mildew fills my nostrils, imprisoning my lungs.

"You said you wouldn't." A familiar voice breaks through the buzzing, pulling me out of the dark. I feel cold concrete against my cheek, my hair falling around my face. Sensing the anger in the voice above me, I slow my breathing back down and keep my eyes closed.

"Don't speak to me that way. Or the boy pays for it. I do what I like. And you will not question it. Understand?" This voice is female, yet commanding.

"Get this scum away from me." A foot collides with my rib cage, pulling a strangled yelp from my throat. I push myself onto my back, feeling the pain in my ribs throb throughout my body. As my eyes flutter open, I'm met with wide brown eyes - tinted green around the pupil- inches from my own. A mask covers the rest of his face, but I can tell from his body build that he's the boy from last night.

"Are you okay?" He begs, timidly lifting me into his arms. The movement increases the blur in my vision, rendering me unable to observe my surroundings.

"What do you think you're doing?!" The angry man's voice from earlier snarls from behind me. As he storms in front of the boy, I assume it's the man from last night. He shares the body build as well as the boy's black mask. As my vision begins to clear, I try to take in my surroundings. The room is dark, a single light hanging overhead. From what I can tell, not only the floor is concrete, but the walls as well. The room is empty except for the staircase leading upstairs in the corner.

"I- She.. Her ribs...!" The boy stammers, quickly lowering me onto the ground. The man sighs and runs a hand through his hair - as I focus, I make it out to be almost black, flecked with gray.

"You're right. I'll take her upstairs." The man extends his hand to me, "Do I have to carry you everywhere?"

"N-no." I stutter, grasping his hand between my two - still bound at the wrist. I teeter on bound feet, unable to find my balance. My ribs protest sharply, exploding against my chest.

"Guess I do." the man chuckles, easily laying me over his shoulder and carrying me upstairs. My ribs scream in protest, throbbing against the man's shoulder. I will not scream. I will not whimper. I am Emily Prentiss. I do not show fear. I do not show pain. Feeling the man's muscles contracting under me as he balances my weight, I try to block out the pain in my abdomen by memorizing the setting. The concrete stairs turn to a cracked and rotting wooden floor. It's light brown, the previous stain having long worn off. The floor creaks under the man's step as he turns up another flight of stairs. I feel the man's hand on my neck and behind my knees, panic rising in my throat.

"Relax." He chuckles, laying me back on a mattress. His hands unbind my ankles, blood now flowing freely into my feet. A pair of handcuffs are fastened to the bed post and my hope of escape vanishes as the cold metal fastens around my left ankle. Grey paint peels from the walls, exposing the light drywall underneath. A dresser leans under the dirty window across the room, the only decoration in the room. The bed is simple wrought iron, rust covering paces on the bed posts.

"I'll be back." His words are barely audible, said more to himself than me. As he sweeps out of the room, I notice the boy in the corner of the room.

"He's not that bad, you know." The boy sighs, coming to sit on the edge of the bed. I laugh:

"Oh, I'm sure."

"Really..."

"Why don't you let me go? I won't let him hurt you."

"He wouldn't hurt me. Or you. I told you. He's not as bad as you think." The boy tries to explain, holding his masked face in his hands.

"What do you want with me?" I push myself into a sitting position, gasping at the pain in my ribs.

"Lay back down... Don't hurt yourself." The boy gently pushes against my shoulder until I do so, "We just want out."

"So let me go." He doesn't answer me, looking up to meet the eyes of the man as he reenters the room.

"Do you want to...?" The boy wonders, looking at the folded fabric in the man's hands. He also holds a bottle and a rolled ace bandage.

"I can do it. Why don't you try to find some food?" Something in the man's voice melts my heart, the way he's protecting the boy. Leaving his perch, the boy nods and leaves the room. The man squeezes his shoulder as they pass each other, the first exchange of affection I've witnessed. Before the boy leaves the room, he returns to my side and unbinds my wrists with an apologetic smile.

"How do you feel?" Now alone, the man pulls me into a sitting position. He hands me a red cotton tank top and turns his back on me.

"How do you think?" Pulling the dirty silk over my head, I flinch as the cold air hits my skin. As the cotton settles around me, the man turns back to me - as if sensing I was finished.

"I'm sorry about that. She said she wouldn't drug you." The man's words shock me, causing me to look myself over. I notice a small bandaid across my forearm. That would explain the grogginess and buzzing...

"I won't hurt you. But don't hurt me." The man sighs and bunches up one leg of the grey sweatpants in his hand and slides it up my right leg to my thigh. Releasing my left ankle, he slides the pants up my left leg. Sadly, he's sure to re-chain my ankle before continuing. The man sighs quietly, maneuvering the soft fabric over my hips. Without a word, he guides me onto my back.

"What are you doing?" I stammer as his broad warm hands slip beneath the tank top, pushing it up to rest over my chest. No response. His hands press against my rib cage in different places, as his eyes hold mine. They're dark, not unlike my own. Yet his seem harder, full of anger. As his hands press against the rib - that I now presume to be broken - his hands stop.

"You don't hide pain well. It's in your eyes." He states monotonously, "Can you roll onto your side?" Restoring the fabric to its rightful place, he aids me in completing the action. He kneels by my body, taking the bandaid from my arm.

"Does it hurt?" Though the words seem caring, nothing in his demeanor indicates so. His eyes stay on my arm as he lays my arm over a towel before pressing on each side of the small wound. Blood pours from my arm, covering the towel.

"The Palladone will have to run its course. You seem to be coming out of it." The man dabs at the wound with a clean edge of the towel before wrapping my forearm with the bandage.

"Thank you... What's your name?" I whisper as he pulls the comforter around me.

"Sean. Get some rest." The man - Sean - sighs before walking towards the door. He pauses, hand on the doorknob:

"She has my family. You're the only way to get them back, Emily."

**_A/N: Wow, my AN's are perky... I'm not that perky... oh well... See that review button? He told me he doesn't think you guys love him. But I bet clicking on him would prove him wrong!_ ;)**


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N: This was so impossible to write. So be nice. ;) Anyways, just a clarification. William isn't Will LaMontagne. The name is merely a coincidence. Leave your comments in the review section!**_

The smell of coffee pulls me from my light sleep, triggering a growl from my stomach. I rub my eyes groggily, pushing myself onto my elbow. I find myself in the same dank, dark room. The same peeling paint surrounds me. The same old comforter covers me. But I'm not alone. The boy sits on the floor, leaning against the side of the bed. He sips at a mug of steaming hot coffee.

"Did you have a nice nap?" He wonders, turning those hazel doe eyes on me.

"Hardly. Where's...?" I murmur, sitting up slowly.

"Downstairs. Are you hungry?" He pulls himself up and unlocks my ankle, extending his hand to me.

"Not really." I accept his hand, slowly standing up.

"You need to eat." The boy keeps my hand in his, leading me downstairs. The old wood is cold on my bare feet. His skinny fingers stay wrapped around mine, enveloping my hand. The hall he leads me into isn't much different from the previous room, except for a beige flower wallpaper, splotched brown with dirt. There's barely enough room for us to walk side my side, but he keeps me beside him.

"Why haven't you tried to run?" He questions, leading me down the creaky stairway.

"I had a little boy once. If someone took him, I'd do anything to get him back." I murmur, thinking back on the days of chasing Declan through the garden or hiding with him in the house. I remember the way he clung to me after losing his father.

"Declan?" the boy offers, watching my face.

"How'd you...?" Feeling my eyes widen, I grip the banister for balance. The rough wood splinters against my hand, causing me to recoil.

"I know a lot about you. May I see your hand?" the boy takes my other hand in his and turns it over, examining my palm. Satisfied with the lack of wood, he guides me through the first floor of the house. The open first floor is identical to upstairs, dirty wallpaper covering the walls, ripped in places so the drywall is revealed underneath. There is no furniture, and the entire floor is open, except for what I presume is the kitchen - which is through a door behind the stairs.

"You can call me William." the boy says suddenly, turning to face me.

"I... uhm, thanks." This takes me off guard, as captors don't typically divulge information.

"I heard you ask last night..." the boy - William - shrugs before holding the door open for me. I step through the door, looking around. The walls have been freshly painted, a light lavender color. The cabinets have been refinished, but the appliances seem ancient. The floor is still the same rotting wood. A wooden picnic table sits in the center of the room, one seat occupied by Seth. He holds a green mug in his hands, the words "Best Daddy," painted across the side in blue.

"Did your son get you that?" I slowly cross the room and slide onto the bench across from him. Only then do I notice the tears falling from his eyes. They fall from under the mask, hitting the table. My heart breaks for him. Without thinking, I reach my hands out and cover his much larger ones. As soon as my skin touches his, his body jerks, eyes coming up to meet mine. His eyes are dead... empty.

"We'll get them back." I murmur, squeezing his hands.

"We?!" He scoffs, pulling his body away from mine.

"We. You can't get them back without me. True?" Goosebumps crawling across my skin, I pull my knees up to my chest - my arms wrapping tight around them.

"You act like you won't run at the first chance." He hisses, getting up from the table and pacing around the room.

"I won't."

"You won't say that once you know what you have to do!" William interjects from the kitchen counter, head bent over the sandwich he is creating intently.

"Try me." William's head jerks up from his sandwich, looking towards Sean. The two exchange a look, William seeming to nod in agreement to some unspoken question. It can't be that bad... can it? I've been shot, taken hostage, beaten with every object known to man... what else is there?

"Come." Sean sighs, pulling me to my feet by the back of my tank top. Struggling to get my feet under me, I grip his arm sharply. He shoves me in front of him, hand on my back. William opens the front door for me, frowning apologetically. A shiver runs up my spine as my bare feet come into contact with the frozen porch. Yesterday's rain is today's snow.

"You're gonna kill her!" William snarls, wrapping his left arm around my waist squeezing me against him, my feet leaving the porch.

"Fine! I'm going to get the car. Get her ready." Sean spits, storming off.

"It's okay. I've got you." William murmurs against my ear, carrying me back in.

"You don't have to do this." I feel blush spread across my face as he pulls his jacket off and wraps it around my shoulders. The leather's warm, and the scent of honey overwhelms me.

"I want to." He shrugs, readjusting his mask. Noticing the removal of his jacket shook his hair, I gently run my fingers through the soft brown hair.

"Thanks." He laughs nervously, pulling his jacket tighter around me.

"We'll have to get you shoes... We don't really have any." He shrugs, sliding his arm across the back of my thighs and lifting me against him. Sean lays on the horn outside as I wrap my arms around his neck and my legs around his hips. I notice his bare arms, exposed from the lack of jacket:

"Won't you be cold?"

"I'll be fine." He promises, carrying me into the cold. The black Sedan hums quietly by the side of the house, Sean impatiently rapping his fingers against the wheel. William opens the backdoor and lowers me inside, careful to keep the jacket tight around me. I pull my knees up, resting my forehead against the window. As soon as William slides into the front passenger seat, the car starts down the drive. Gravel crunches loudly under the tires as trees draw nearer to the car. Different shades of green race by, blending together into a solid green sheet. I can see the road approaching, but Sean stops the car quickly.

"What's going on?" I inquire as both Sean and William step out of the car. Sean jerks my door open and pulls me out by my neck. The cold gravel is painful against my bare feet, but I don't complain. Before William can object,

"She can walk." Sean hisses, pushing me around the car. Only now do I notice a small path through the trees. Sean forces my down the little path, his other hand holding my hands behind my back.

"She isn't going to run. Don't hurt her." William says through grit teeth. Sean says nothing, only shoving me into the icy grass. The cold against my feet begins to burn, pushing me forward faster. A stone outbuilding emerges from the trees, dark grey in color. Sean pulls the heavy wooden door open and shoves me inside the small building. It's small, no bigger than 20 feet each way. But that isn't what disturbs me. A wrought iron bed stands against the far wall, made with simple white sheets. A pair of handcuffs are attached to each bed post...

"Sean..." I turn to look at the two men, trying to keep the sheer panic off my face.

"$500 a night. One night to rest in between." Sean states monotonously, keeping his gaze above my head. William ducks his head after nodding to a shelf along the left wall. As I step closer, I identify the shelf to be full of small black boxes. Sinking to my knees, I run my fingertips across the ends of the boxes - trying to muster the courage to remove one. I select the third box on the second shelf from the bottom. My heart sinks as I trace my fingers over the neat silver lettering: _David Rossi. _ Replacing the box carefully on the shelf, I push myself to my feet. Stumbling to the bed, I perch on the side carefully. My head swims, shapes blurring together. I can hear my name, yet it doesn't make sense. Bed. Handcuffs. 500 dollars a night. Names.

"Emily!" Sean's voice breaks through my mind as his hands land on my shoulders. He pushes my head between my legs, repeating my name. I drag my eyes up and find William's, wide in terror. I try to mumble a reassurance, but nothing manages to come out. Sean's hands guide me onto my back, lifting my legs onto the bed.

"I don't want to do this to you. But I lost my family once. I can't lose them again." Sean sighs, all traces of anger gone.

"What do I have to do?" I choke out, trying to get up, "Say it."

"You're a profiler, Emily. You know." Sean says through his teeth. He's right.

"I'm your whore."


	4. Chapter 4

_**A/N: Hey, guys. So like... school is really sucking right now. I don't have a whole lot of time to write but I'm doing my best. I'm not sure if this is good or anything, but we'll see... Please please please review this and tell me what you think? I'm sups nervous about this one. Thanks!**_

_~Two Days Later~_

I look myself up and down in the dirty and cracked mirror, spotting little familiarity within the clouded glass. The pale white of my skin contrasts starkly to the black cracks. The thin material of my panties hide little, and my bra much the same - but I don't need to see. I've stood in front of a thousand mirrors. I've examined the scarred flesh that covers my body a million times. I've wondered if it was worth it too many times to count. I've recalled the touches of one-night stands and long time lovers night after night. I've felt the cold bite my bare skin all too often; but it's never like this. This cold is dangerous and threatening. This cold carries whispers of the hell that will come: the hell that I will walk entirely willing into. One, two, three raps against the heavy wooden door.

"Come in." My lips move without permission, declaring the last thing I desire. The door creaks open heavily, groaning from its weight. William closes the door behind him, holding a bag in each hand.

"I... He wanted me to help you finish getting ready... " I can hear the blush creeping across William's face, though the black mask prevents my eyes from confirming it. I follow his movements in the mirror as he lays things on the four poster: three dresses; a shoe box. Dragging my eyes away from the mirror, I gently run my fingers over the soft material of the dresses: red, purple, green.

"The purple one." My fingers tangle in the fabric and hold it against my body. He moves silently, taking the dress from my hands and unzipping the back. I drag my arms over my head as he let's the clingy fabric slip over my body to my hips. William works the tight fabric over my hips to my knees. After moving my hair, the zipper zips snugly, squeezing my rib cage. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I take one of the black heels and slide it on. Fastening the straps of the second heel around my ankle, I push myself to my feet.

"You look nice." Sean's voice startles both William and I.

"I didn't notice you come in..." I murmur, noticing him leaning against the heavy door. Ignoring my words, Sean crosses the room to the shelf of boxes.

"Who will you choose?" William questions, joining Sean in examining the various names.

"David Rossi." Sean decides, removing the box I first touched days ago.

* * *

My knuckles wrap against the white door loudly. I can feel the weight of the black box in my otherwise empty purse. The icy winter air bites at my bare legs, raising goosebumps along my thighs. The sound of heavy locks being opened speeds my heart as the realization of tonight begins to set in.

"Emily?" David Rossi asks incredulously. His hair's grayer than the last time I saw him. Those always kind brown eyes are outlined with more wrinkles than I remember.

"Hello, David." I smile, immediately calmed by his presence. He flashes me his trademark crooked smile and stands aside, silently inviting me in. He wears dark jeans and a crisp white button-up. I've always liked Rossi's casual demeanor.

"This is a surprise... I didn't know you were here..." He chuckles as I follow him through the house to his kitchen.

"Not many people do." I laugh quietly, sitting atop one of the bar stools. The kitchen hasn't changed much since the last time I was here with the entire team: the same off-white cabinets; the same black marble counter top; the same elaborate chandelier.

"Well, I'm honored." He takes the seat beside me, swirling the white liquor in his wine glass, "How've you been?"

"I've been... it's been different. I miss the BAU." Shrugging, I rest my hand over his flirtatiously.

"Oh?" His eyes flicker from my hand to my chest back up to my face, "Are you thinking of coming back?" I drag my fingertips along his forearm, feeling the muscle underneath.

"I don't think so. I'm just here for a few weeks." As I speak, I notice the way he leans towards me.

"What brought on the visit?" His hand brushes my hair back off my face, grazing my cheek softly.

"It was a surprise for Jay. But Interpol called before her party and needed me." I lie coolly, accepting the wine glass he hands me.

"So why come see me? Not that I mind." I notice his eyes flicker down to my chest as he fills my glass with red wine. Now's my chance...

"How could I not?" Biting my lip seductively, I step closer - closing the distance between us.

"Emily..." His voice warns, but I can see that he won't object.

"Yes, David?" I breathe against his cheek as my lips near his.

"What do you think you're doing?" He murmurs against my lips, his hand tangling in my hair. I can smell the liquor on his breath, which makes this easier for me. I can barely suppress the shiver of disgust that runs along my spine. Instead of answering with words, I run my hand along his thigh, feeling him grow under my hand. I'm pulled from my bar stool and held against his chest as his hands slide over my hips. Swallowing hard, I slide my tongue against his bottom lip slowly.

"Somebody's excited." He chuckles against me before sliding his tongue alongside mine. His fingers tangle in my hair as he shoves me back against the wall. Spreading my legs with his thigh, I can feel his bulging erection against my leg. His hands slide up to my breast, pulling my dress with them. The cool air bites at my newly exposed skin as his warmth covers me. He spins me around, pressing my chest to the wall. My zipper slides down and the dress slips from my body.

"Emily Prentiss, you are without a doubt the most attractive woman I have ever laid eyes on." His voice murmurs against my neck as he kisses from my shoulder to my ear. His hands disappear from my body momentarily, only to be replaced by his entire naked body against my back. The clasp of my bra is released and as it falls away, he drags my panties down my legs. His engorged member touches my hand and I automatically flinch away. Immediately correcting myself, I force my hand to move along his rod. His breath pants against the back of my neck as he guides my arms over my head. Shifting my hips back, he rolls his hips forward to penetrate me: the motion takes my breath away. He shoves himself into me repeatedly, gripping my hips tightly. I can tell he's nearing the edge as his breathing speeds along with his thrusts. There is no suppressing the disgust as he empties himself inside of me.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Whoo, finals. Sorry for taking so long. *insert cheesy line begging for comments***

I can feel Rossi vacate my body, leaving me empty and abused. A shudder runs through me as his hand tightens roughly on my ass.

"You're incredible, Em..." His drunk breath slurs against my neck.

"Do you mind if I clean myself up?" Attempting to continue my seductive demeanor, I lift my dress from its pool at my feet.

"Of course, beautiful thing. Up the stairs. First door on the left."

Without looking back of him, I pull my purse defensively across my body and hurry from the room. I can feel his eyes watch me as I leave. Taking the stairs two at a time, it takes me far too long to get away from his invasive eyes. The dark hallway shrouds me from him, but also shrouds the doors from me. Feeling along the cold wall, my fingers trail across the smooth paint. As soon as my fingers hit the heavy wooden door, I shove it in and close it only once I'm inside. It clicks closed with a loud thud. Flicking the light on, I stare at myself in the large mirror: my makeup's smeared around my eyes, giving me a raccoon appearance; bruises are beginning to form on my hips from where he gripped me; my skin shines disgustingly with sweat; and my curled hair lays dead against my shoulders. The beige walls don't provide much of a distraction from the mess that is my body...

"Fuck it." I murmur through my teeth.

Opening the purse William had given me, I can't suppress the smile that spreads across my face when I see the folded fabric underneath the black box. My hands lift the soft grey cotton and hold it up: sweatpants. A red tank top is folded neatly under the pants. I can't help but wince as I pull the sweatpants over my soiled panties. Rossi's a lot stronger than he looks... Slipping from my heels, I shiver as my bare feet hit the cool tile. I can hear Rossi moving downstairs, but that only spurs me faster. The soft cotton feels nice against my skin. Discarding my dress and shoving the dress into my purse, I fit the tank top around my body. Pulling the black box from my purse before slinging it over my shoulder, I carry my heels with me out into the hallway. The hardwood creaks slightly underfoot, causing me to freeze my movements. The cold floor bites at my feet as I tiptoe down the hall. The light from the bathroom spills out into the hallway, casting haunting shadows along the wall. The box held tightly under my arm, I push the first door open just far enough to peer inside: a large wooden table covered in papers and surrounded by broken spine books.

"Damn..." I hiss to myself, closing the door to his office. Creeping to the next door, I gently twist the knob before pushing. I can't see much, only general shapes. I assume the large rectangular cube against the right wall to be a bed. Directly across from it is what I hope I'm looking for... a dresser. Sliding my hands across the smooth and glossy wood, I manage to confirm my suspicions. Relying entirely on my sense of touch, I open the top drawer and rifle through it. Judging by the silky fabric, I assume the drawer to contain his boxers. I move to the next drawer, suppressing my disgust. This is what I'm looking for: socks. Neatly paired and folded, the rows of sock feel nice under my fingertips.

"Em? I'm ready for round two!" Rossi's slurred voice floats into the room, followed by the sound of his footsteps on the stairs. Panicking, I reach below the rows of socks and search around the bottom of the drawer until my fingers touch leather. The opening of the bathroom door keeps any smile from my face. Ripping the wad of bills from the wallet, I toss it back in the drawer and silently close the heavy drawer.

"Em?!" Rossi's voice behind me causes me to jump, slamming my arm against the corner of the dresser, "Is that you?"

Terrified, I cross the room quickly with the bills in hand. I shove the money in my purse before pulling at the window. As soon as it pops open, I slide my left leg out the window and let my body slink out. My fingertips grip the ledge, looking down below. The darkness conceals anything of help and I'm forced to let go. I can hear my name from above distantly, but the air racing past my ears. Drawing my body up, I do my best to protect my head as my body slams into the grass below. I can't breathe, the air knocked from my lungs.

"Emily!" Rossi's voice above me isn't curious anymore - it's angry. My body acts on instinct, dragging itself to its feet. Arms gripping the purse to its chest, one foot moves rapidly in front of the other, propelling it quickly down the driveway. Stumbling, my body falls once more, asphalt busting my knees. Air slowly begins to move into my lungs again, pain beginning to register.

"Will?!" I feel my voice cracking, but I honestly can't care. The black Sedan parked at the end of the drive gives me enough hope for safety that I honestly can't care anymore. William steps out of the drivers seat and extends his hand.

"It's okay, E. I've got you." He murmurs, looking past me towards the house. Opening the passenger door, he ushers me inside before closing the door behind me. It's a matter of seconds before he's in the drivers seat and the car's speeding away.

"How'd you know it was me?" I think I hear a hint of fear in his voice as his hand covers my knee, but I can't be sure.

"You're different. Taller. Thinner. More approachable." I can't help the chuckle in my voice.

"Thanks, E." I can barely hear his voice as my eyelids slide closed, the exhaustion setting in. I know my hell will continue in my nightmares, but for now... I'm willing to take the chance for just an ounce of rest. William's presence is soothing enough to relax me. I never thought I could be grateful for my captor.


End file.
